This is the story of an average guy
Who had never been able to cry.
He didn't have the means to,
And yet, he would have really liked to.
Because crying gives you solace
And soothes the heart with balm.
But he had grown past the age
At which sorrow can be learned by heart.
He tried to focus on it,
To stir emotions in himself out of the blue,
But no: he didn't know how to cry
And that was what made him sad.
In order to attain that moment
Of being truly unhappy,
He created difficulties for himself,
Inventing serious troubles
And thus, he knew how to deal with those situations,
Judging from his past.
He was even tempted to hang himself
As proof that he didn't like laughing.
When presented with a beautiful misfortune
He was immediately charming
But his attempts to break his own heart were in vain.
He couldn't find a single tear.
Then, it happened to him suddenly,
Meeting by a fountain
Where the Spring was washing itself,
A girl in trouble.
In her little canvas apron,
She was crying like a child.
He saw her eyes full of stars,
And so, he did the same.
A guy like that isn't common.
He wasn't like the rest of us.
Thus, for him to be sorrowful
He needed the grief of others.
That girl was all alone in the world,
All alone in the day, all alone in the night
And on top of that, she was blonde,
So he took her with him.
He was happy, since it was she
Who taught him how to cry
But the lesson was too beautiful,
And so was the girl. . .everything vanished.
He became very unhappy,
Wronged far more than he deserved
And every day, he cries a little
Now that he knows how to, he takes advantage of that.